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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25871566">Reunion</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnknownPaws/pseuds/UnknownPaws'>UnknownPaws</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Baras Sucks, Baras's POV (gross), Emotional Manipulation, Heavy Angst, Horror, Hurt, Hurt No Comfort, I am so sorry, If Sith bending the minds of others to their will bothers you I do not recommend you read, Lost Love, Love/Hate, M/M, Non-Consensual Conversion To The Darkside, Non-Consensual Force Manipulations, Non-Consensual Mind Destruction, Or cereal box idk what people read these days, POV Second Person, Past Relationship(s), Psychological Horror, So does Karr but not here, This fic is an honest to goodness train wreck, Unrequited Love, You'd probably be better off reading the back of a shampoo bottle, seriously</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 08:36:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,871</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25871566</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnknownPaws/pseuds/UnknownPaws</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>An angel's wings need only be cut.<br/>And you have already made the first slice.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Darth Baras/Nomen Karr</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Reunion</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello and welcome to this ABSOLUTE TRAIN WRECK of a fanfic. This was heavy inspired by a conversation on Discord and while I started out okay this swiftly became a total disaster because sitting in Darth Baras's head absolutely sucks and I do not recommend it. Also the fact that he and Karr have a fascinating albeit terrifying connection played a role in how these two branch from being soft to the embodiment of a wasp's nest. With that in mind, if you dare continue, I hope you enjoy this trash pile I have compacted into a word document.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>He sits before you a mess of self-loathing and contradictions. A dog thieved of its bone, left chained and growling. A hypocrite, a monster. An open flower whose petals you yearn to feel. The sweet scent of his sweat and dismay lingers in the air long before you’ve closed the gap between you. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He barely acknowledges your presence, stubborn ignorance a petty fool’s game he insists on playing. It’s childish, the way he ducks his head, jaw set and eyes </span>
  <em>
    <span>burning</span>
  </em>
  <span>, oozing bloody loathing. Horribly rude and beneath him; it is absolutely </span>
  <em>
    <span>glorious</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Beautiful is the way he breathes heavy and angry, the red of his cheeks betraying his prior scream fest that had echoed along the empty halls of your established residence. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His face is wet, slick with salt and shame. From the failure of losing so poor to a long-fought rival or the loss of his treasured little </span>
  <em>
    <span>whelp</span>
  </em>
  <span> is beyond your reckoning, but it’s of no matter now. In this moment, here in this little box of time and space that is only yours to behold, the only importance is you and him.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>And where you both left off years ago.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Karr” you purr, the hum of your voice muffled by the mask you chose to keep for the visitation. After all, he’s not exactly earned the right to see your face again. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>(Not yet).</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>He, as expected, ignores you, but not without physical betrayal of his own self. A trembling in his lips betrays his need, his desire to throw words. Curses, insults, the haunting promise of demise hanging over your head should he ever get free. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <em>
    <span>Delicious.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You hum a soft tune, one you know he remembers, pacing around the table he’s held to in mock thought. You see him twitch as you disappear behind him. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Nomen, Nomen dearest” you tut, sneaking up to where his head lies, unaware. Your breath brushes his ear and he twitches again. A slow, predator’s smile graces your lips. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Perfect</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’ve been a rather unsightly blight, haven’t you?” you coo, voice kept at a low, even tone. Direct enough to get the message across, yet faux-soothing to stroke the terrible burn festering on his soul. You know it will. You’ve known each other too well. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Couldn’t keep your nose out of where it doesn’t belong.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>You watch him shift, feel the warm flicker of irritation well up in his gut. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Had to go poking into my things, all of my assets.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>A spark takes root, starting the fire that will soon smoulder his innerads like Alderaanian cedar. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Such a rude, uninvited thing to do.”</span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You clutch the back of the table, the cool metal feeling unnaturally hot beneath your fingertips. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Just how you like it. Just like him</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why Nomen? Didn’t you know we’re under Treaty? A Peace Calling?”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>He shakes suddenly, snarling. Smoke almost curls up from his mouth, the scent of rage and refusal acrid in the air. It’s soft and choking, a threat unspoken to the promise of punishment and pain. Yet it is, to your senses, a  sweet and welcoming fume bringing old memories and a past long forgotten.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>(You’ve missed it). </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The smile upon your lips aches. It’s too big, too soon, too fast assuming. You know this could all end unfairly. He could lose himself to the rabid sickness, taking with him his secrets and mysteries. You could push too far, and diminish what you had. Yet you cannot help yourself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The plumes of his taint wisps up in little waves; you reckon he cannot see them himself. This is how it starts; you awaken to the shadows that linger in the corner of your eyes. The days become shorter. Vision dimmer, a fading greyscale against the bright vibrancy you used to see life in. It isn’t loss of self - it’s the introduction to the true reality. You can only run from it’s splintering claws for so long before it nabs you. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>You know that struggle all too well. You should feel sympathy. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>But that isn’t you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And you’ve waited too long for this moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Giddiness fills you for what’s about to come. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You come back around the front, facing your beloved </span>
  <em>
    <span>dearest</span>
  </em>
  <span> in consideration. Nomen’s face has since taken a redder hue, frustration leaking from his pores in visible desperation to gain control. Save what else he had left of himself. But the infection was spreading; in his state, this spinning cocoon, he would only come out reborn.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All he needed was one final, triggering push. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Such a naughty one.”</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>There. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Finally, it happens; you hit a bullseye and everything spontaneously </span>
  <em>
    <span>caves</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The room shakes. Walls creak, floors bend and the lights begin to spark ominously. Were you not concerned about the real estate value of the house you’d be worried. But Ziost investments went down about a millenia ago without promise of revalue and right now, the view before you is much more enticing than anything outside your bedroom window could unveil. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Karr seizes, taunt and tight, body in an invisible vice grip. Mouth open at long last, a beautiful thing of pink, sore ridden moist flesh and white teeth. His throat consulves, the scream of fury ripping at his chords long before the sound emits with such force you’re honestly surprised he doesn’t tear himself to shreds. It takes another second for the insults to appear, floating amongst the hollow bellows like windswept birds in the swell of the storm. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“BLAGGARD!” he screeches, a shrill vibration of hate and fury. “I’LL END YOU! I’LL FINISH YOU, SITH! YOU ARE FINISHED! DEAD! GONE!”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>He rattles in his restraints, foaming like a rabid beast. In the way he is, sweaty, hot and fired up in ways previously unimagined, the resemblance is uncanny. By Jedi standards, that is. For you, it is further a reminder of what once was. Bittersweet memories of days filled in blood and gory glory, sadistic sweet kisses beneath a waterfall of clotted carnage. Rough nothings murmured in the dead of night, a storm weathered between you both like uncaged tigers. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But those days are long gone and what’s left is the marauding, screaming, clouded mess of a man held tight before you. Who’d taken and </span>
  <em>
    <span>taken</span>
  </em>
  <span> and stolen all you had to give. So you stand back and watch. Mourning silent for what could’ve been, relishing in what was now; revenge. For you were, at best, a creature of comfort and security - ambition was never your most outwardly displayed trait. Patience, like a predator hiding in the grass, led you here instead. To the flower trembling on its stalk, ripe and ready for plucking. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>But still you wish to admire its petals a while more.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After all, why rush things, you figure, when you have all the time in the galaxy at your hands? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No, it is best to take it steady.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Quietly, you draw your sword in a slow, lazy grace. Nomen’s eyes snap open, meeting yours. At long last, a proper connection; the reunion. Soft blue turned bloody rose red, dark at the rims from the poisoned shadows flowing through his veins. How interesting; you’d always figured, when it came to the disease, he’d have matched your own. Golden molten magma hue. But this is something entirely different. It is vibrant. It is deadly. It is </span>
  <em>
    <span>ugly</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And you hunger for it all the more.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He watched the blade of your deception hover about in the air. A threat, he knows. A promise, you tell him. One he failed to keep years ago. His eyes widen and he struggles; it is amusing, like a creature caught in the tangles of the net, fruitlessly endeavouring escape from the lonely hunter that seeks its gamey flesh.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But you aren’t here to kill him. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Not yet.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Instead, you smirk as the saberlight vanishes and you pocket the blade, leaving him breathless and stunned to silence. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When the end finally comes, you will greet it with open arms.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You are, as he has proven, infallible. A repulsive being such as yourself need only ask of the Force for assistance, do the deed. It is, of course, all you ever are and would be; greedy, self serving.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So be it then, that you reach out into the tendrils of time and space, to the fabric of that unfathomable power that consumes you both, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>pull</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The Force, in it’s limbo, bends to your touch without resistance. Marvelous. You are, without doubt, it’s master. It serves you, bows before your will. Something he, Nomen Karr the Fruitless Jedi, never understood. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>For he was all but a slave to its whims. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Where as you were its Master. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And now, in this moment of time, it is completely yours to wield and command; just as he is yours to bend and break. With it’s wisping tentacles slithering around your person, you snake forward, approaching like a swamp devil lurking beneath murk and mud. He shivers, a squealing pig awaiting slaughter. He knows what’s coming; a moment of sacrifice, humiliation. The loss of self and purpose. The butchering of identity. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>It is here and now that these are his final moments. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Slowly, the vines of evil creep off your hands and  slither up his person, around limbs limber and loose. Joints and points unhinged. Karr’s nerve falters further, the not-so Jedi shivering from Dark’s cold, cruel touch. He resists, if only for a moment, feebly attempting to antibody the Infection; then the poison seeps full into his head, brain, mind and soul, and he is lost. Freezing in place, trapped in a brief, wonderful state of agony and internal acceptance, as the final pieces of chaos incarnate begin to devour and overtake what little control he had left. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So </span>
  <em>
    <span>gorgeous</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It is a theatre performance for only your eyes to bare; as its audience, you wish only for an encore.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There is no sound from him, not a scream or cry ushered from his chapped lips that desire warmth. Like a silent film, only the whispers of the Force accompany the cinematic display set upon your metal stage. A beautiful, sorrowful tragedy you’ve cultivated for years, at last bearing the sweetest flesh of fruit you’ve yearned to taste. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He is like such a passion pomegranate of hate and love, sweet and sharp. Flesh so tender to the touch, hidden underneath the tough-to-break skin. But deeper beneath that supple barrier lies the sour seeds much more desired. The truth, seeds of reality, were more refreshing than a small quenching lie.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But tonight you won’t be feasting. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The moment is slowly fading as those seeds take root; gentle affection held is marred by the bitter remembrance you refuse to let go. The bitter taste left on your tongue even as you continue to regard him in wanton desire. He lies before you still, only now quiet and awaiting, the fight gone from his person in unholy acceptance. Watching you with red eyes wary and -- be it be -- curious. Head tilting to the side like a pup’s innocent expression. Mouth agape just a touch, soft pink of his tongue lingering between slowly chipping teeth.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Everything you ever wished of him. All you ever wanted. It is here, in this moment. You could take it all.   </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <em>
    <span>But not yet. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He has not earned your affections.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Your beloved dear mongrel dares make a soft little noise, like a whimper crossed with a sigh, eyeing you so intently. You almost mimic the noise in your head, admiring his new visage of ragdoll lucity. So soft, so beautiful. In retrospect, you should have seen through his charm long ago. It, like all else, is a facade. But damn if this isn’t what you had wished for all those years prior. It is inevitable; you cannot help yourself. You are weak, a man drawn to the spell that he casts.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You will want him; you will touch him. Taint him, ruin what is left. For that is all you are, ever will be. A smouldering fire that ruins everything he touches with glee, the cruelty of a child present even in the Golden years. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>And he, lost in the transition between Purgatory and Chaos, is tied to you like a moth to flame; always. He won’t resist you.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You are each other’s equal; a match bonded by blood and impulse. For he is, without questioning, your necessity; the feed to the fowl, meat to the beast. A beneficial poisoning to the circulatory system. A faulty cure to the infection that is you. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Wasp to the Spider. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>But his sting can only do so much in the web he’s entangled in. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>And you will await with salivating venom jaws. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Slowly, his shackles begin to unbind, rope and biting cuffs loosening to let free the jelly arms that now flop limp and useless to his sides. He sways, and for a brief moment you consider you’ve made a mistake. But his eyes are hazy, clouded in a mock-spice daze, unfocused on anything around him. Anything, except you. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>With a hand, you gesture up, and like an ascending holy being, he begins to rise. Above the table, the intricate carvings in the wall, the holocrons sitting in neat little cases upon high shelves. Far up overhead to the edge of the ceiling. To heights where you have to crane your elder neck up to see him. He hovers in the air, suspended like a puppet on strings, looking confused. Lost and still not-quite-returned to reality. The moment is now. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You hum in contemplation, debating how to best forward. Then, slowly, you too rise up, like a creature pulling itself from the dreadful inferno’s hold, to meet him. You stand with him, in tandem, face to face proper suspending in time and space. He is watching you again, with unmoving eyes, dull yet focused completely on your person. Welcoming, yearning; intciing.You move to touch him, feel his soft leather cheek beneath your fingertips at long last. You’ve missed him so much-</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>A spark shocks your system before you make contact; the Force, coiled about you both, snarls a warning. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cold numbness fills you and you retract your hands. No, this is…</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>A reminder, a call. A pull back to the reality of your situation. The real reason he was here today. This man, this monster, was not yours to hold. No more; your Summer Sun had set a long time ago. (Perhaps it had never full risen to begin with. ) You had nothing else to do with him; what was once there was lost and there was no returning it. At best, you finish it here and now, and be done with it. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Yet still… you cannot shake the need. The feel of the sun upon your skin, the memory of sweet kisses. The promise of days to come, of moments that would last under the green leaves of Kaas Oak Trees. It would never be so; but, perhaps that was not what was needed. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Yes, summer was gone and the past’s leaves cascaded from the trees. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But in the wake of autumn, you are willing to rake the fallen leaves back together. In a slower, methodological manner. </span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You pull back and he </span>
  <em>
    <span>rasps</span>
  </em>
  <span>. A sound of need and pleading, begging. It is… too soon. (You wish to hear it again. </span>
  <em>
    <span>But not yet</span>
  </em>
  <span>.)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His eyes are almost sad, remorseful. For the betrayal or loss of self, you aren’t certain. But it does not matter. Not anymore. Not in that way. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You pull away completely and descend. He remains in place, unmoving, watching in horrified sadness. Slowly, the distance between you both grows. One above, one below. And forever it shall grow. You know this now more than ever. Yet still, you can admire from afar. For now. With a stiff upper lip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>His body sweats above you still suspended in mock angel’s grace, glistening with the crime of shame and hate. Regret; his eyes are burning, soaked with salty refuse, cheeks run red raw. Quiet breathes turns to whimpers of plea. Amazing; you haven’t done anything to him at all. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Yet here he is, tormented by your very existence. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>By the fact that you </span>
  <em>
    <span>refuse </span>
  </em>
  <span>to touch him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>The thought makes your heart skip a beat and joy seep into your soul. He is but a little bird cupped in your palm; you need only cradle him or crush him now. You had felt a glimmer of pain pulling back from the opportunity to steal what had once been (you thought) yours. But now, you know what the Force had been trying to say.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A denial, but not a rejection. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>The reminder that he is not yet yours again, but he </span>
  <em>
    <span>will be</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In time. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In torment.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>An angel’s wings need only be cut. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>You held tight the strings holding him up; now, in swift afterthought, you let them go. He lands hard and </span>
  <em>
    <span>screams</span>
  </em>
  <span> but you refuse to turn around as you leave the room and lock the door behind. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span></span><br/>

  <span>An angel’s wings need only be cut.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>And you have already made the first slice. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And as the last petal falls from the flower, you know though He Loves You, You Love Him Not. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I am so sorry for this.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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